on the left, the ClawBound pair sank fangs, claws and fingers into exposed flesh. The TaiGethen, movements blurring, rolled, kicked, stabbed and slashed out, driving men in front of them. Hirad took on a raw recruit, saw the fear in his eyes and batted the boy’s axe blade aside before skewering his right lung. He coughed blood in a spray and fell back and aside. Hirad’s path was clear.
‘Selik!’ he shouted.
The Black Wing turned and ran back towards the barracks.
‘Raven leaving the line!’ said Hirad.
‘Covered,’ said The Unknown.
It was all Hirad needed to hear. He tore off after Selik, the cuts to his arms, leg and side pulling and bleeding. He gasped at the sudden pain but didn’t let up, leaping up the stairs into the barrack block and kicking the door in.
‘Nowhere to run, Selik!’
A door banged up ahead, Hirad shouldered his way through it and saw Selik at the opposite side of the small room, working at a lock and stiff bolt.
‘Turn round, Selik,’ said Hirad.
Selik did so, drawing his sword. They were in an office. A desk and chair were to one side and a bookshelf held various papers. A window let out on to the compound where The Raven and TaiGethen were mopping up the remnants of the Black Wings.
‘Brave move, that,’ said Hirad.
‘I felt I couldn’t take you all on,’ replied Selik.
‘Well, now it’s just me.’
Hirad beckoned him on, keeping his blade in his left hand. Selik rushed at him, over-arming his sword. Hirad stepped smartly aside. Selik’s motion brought him on, his sword cut thin air and Hirad helped him through, shoving him hard in the back and sending him careering into the bookshelf. Selik turned.
‘Oops,’ said Hirad. ‘Fancy another go?’
Selik was fast, Hirad gave him that. This time he moved in and whipped out a strike left to right at waist height. Hirad stepped back, his sword cracking across Selik’s, driving it down to thump into the floor. The barbarian saw his opening, slashing in an upward arc, but Selik saw it coming and swayed back, the breeze of the sword ruffling his hair. Hirad came on again, jabbing straight forward and moving right to dodge the counter-thrust and steady for the next. Selik obliged, a wild swing Hirad took on the up, knocking it aside hard.
Losing control for a heartbeat, Selik reversed half a pace, his sword in no position to defend himself. He tried to bring his defence back in front of him, but overcompensated and Hirad, waiting his moment, struck down two-handed and took Selik’s sword hand off just above the wrist. Selik howled in agony and staggered back against the bookshelf, papers cascading over him. He stared down at the bloody stump in disbelief and up into Hirad’s eyes.
Hirad’s heart was beating so hard he thought Selik must be able to hear it. He stood over the hated man for what seemed like an age.
‘I have waited for this for a very long time,’ he said.
‘We will still prevail,’ managed Selik. ‘You can’t beat us. No one beats the righteous.’
‘But you won’t be there to see it.’
With every ounce of strength in him, Hirad swung his sword, severing Selik’s neck. The head cartwheeled off, bouncing onto the floor and rolling to rest by the door the Black Wing had been trying to escape through.
‘Still no way out,’ said Hirad.
He turned and ran back through the barracks, bursting into the sunlight, a grim smile on his lips. Their leader was down, the Black Wings were beaten and The Raven and TaiGethen were mopping up the stragglers.
Close to him, Auum despatched a pair of frightened youths, moving impossibly fast. His left elbow crunched into one’s throat, the dagger in his right hand thudding into the other’s temple. Hardly pausing, he led his Tai up the steps and past Hirad into the barracks to search for their prize.
Back in the compound, Aeb delivered the final blow, weapons crossed in front of him, axe carving unprotected flesh, sword swiping into helmet, crushing metal into skull. His victim dropped, blood dribbling down his forehead.
It was over.
Hirad leaned heavily on his blade, feeling the exertions of the morning. His body was slick with sweat, he sawed huge breaths into his lungs, the cuts in his sword arm and side stung very badly and every muscle ached.
He looked at The Raven, experiencing none of the elation he was used to after winning a fight. None of them did. Erienne was comforting Ren by Ilkar’s charred body